


Practice Makes Better

by aldiara



Category: Alles was zählt
Genre: Bring Back The Porn Challenge, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 03:25:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldiara/pseuds/aldiara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roman has control issues. Deniz doesn't mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Practice Makes Better

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks and smooches to my wonderful beta Lilithilien <333333 Set after and inspired by the Christmas episode 834 where everything is awesome and nobody at all dies, okay! This is my fifth attempt at cranking out something for the BBTP Challenge and I am happy to report it contains no angst, no plot and no redeeming qualities whatsoever.

"That was a mean thing to say, you know," Deniz murmurs against Roman's ear in between nibbles.

They've left the Christmas party early, and he is determined to make the most of their flatmates' absence. It's not that he usually minds the thin walls in the least. But occasionally it's nice to be able to be noisy without the resigned knowledge that you're going to get an earful for it over breakfast.

"Hm? What thing?" Roman is wriggling in his arms, frowning as he struggles with Deniz's shirt buttons. Deniz helps with the last couple, shrugging the shirt off his shoulders while he backs Roman into their bedroom, eagerly chasing his lips.

"You know," he reproaches between kisses. "About my… mhmmm… stamina."

Roman just snorts, not in the least contrite. "Schatz, I spent weeks – months! – of my life trying to come up with ways to not make you come in your pants three seconds after I touched you. I am entitled to make fun of you."

"Hmph. I was seventeen and you were waving your ass at me every second. What did you expect?"

Roman's lips curve against his in a grin. "Exactly what I got – not much," he says cheerfully, and Deniz growls.

"I did get better."

"Uh huh."

"I did! You twat."

Five minutes later he is face-down on the bed, laughing breathlessly, with Roman's weight atop him, holding him down. "You were saying?" Roman says conversationally. His arms frame Deniz's head, fingers firmly circling his wrists on either side, pinning them down. Deniz pulls a little, only to feel the strength in Roman's grip as it tightens.

"Has anyone ever told you you've got some serious control issues going on?"

Roman laughs, a warm puff of air against his nape that makes Deniz shiver. "You like it."

It's hard to argue with that when the evidence is already straining against his fly. Roman has slipped one knee between his thighs, and Deniz instinctively pushes back against it, seeking friction. Above him, Roman shifts, transferring his grip to one hand trapping both of Deniz's wrists. His other hand sneaks down and around Deniz' waist, deftly unbuckling his belt. The silk of his shirt slides against Deniz' bare back, the fabric cool against his skin. He catches his breath when Roman tugs his trousers down, and instinctively lifts his hips to help. Roman pushes jeans and boxers down, not bothering to take them off all the way, and Deniz feels his face heat slightly at the vulnerability of his position, mostly naked now with his pants a tangle round his knees, while atop him Roman is still fully dressed. Again, he tests the firmness of the grip on his wrists, bucks slightly against Roman's pinning weight against his back. He has no leverage to speak of but he could probably push his boyfriend off if he really tried.

If he really wanted to.

Then Roman's free hand slides against his buttocks, lightly cupping and squeezing one cheek, and Deniz almost flinches. His cock, already half-hard before, stiffens so fast it sends a sudden rush of heat through his entire body, and he moans.

He can hear amusement in Roman's voice when he says, "So, you would generally say your stamina has improved, would you?"

Deniz snorts indignantly, even as he wriggles a bit to settle his ass more fully into Roman's slow, circular caresses. "I can go all night, you tosser."

"Mhmmm." Roman leans closer, his lips moving hotly against the shell of Deniz's ear so he can't help shivering. "Can you go as long as I tell you to?"

_Oh shit._

Roman's knee is still between his slightly spread legs. The material of his trousers chafes against the tender skin of Deniz' inner thighs when he slides it back and forth, very slightly. Deniz almost cries out when it brushes against his balls; he just barely manages to swallow the sound.

"Try me," he grits out instead. He can feel his own pulse pounding within the tight circle of Roman's hand. His skin feels on fire already and they haven't even done anything and he doesn't even really care if he's setting himself up for massive failure here, because really, he could probably come just from this: the slow shift of Roman's strong thigh between his legs; the not-too-secret thrill of being held immobile at someone else's pleasure.

"Alright," Roman agrees lightly, and then, without warning, delivers a sudden, sharp smack to Deniz's backside. This time, he can't help crying out. His whole body jerks in surprise, and Roman leans down on him more heavily, putting more force into his grip. His other hand smoothes over the spot he's just slapped. The motion _seems_ soothing but it's only making Deniz shift restlessly under the deceptively gentle touch.

Once again Roman's mouth is close to Deniz' ear, briefly brushing his temple before murmuring, "Come up, Süßer. On your knees."

Deniz scrambles to comply, awkwardly nudging his jeans further down his legs as he does. For a moment Roman's weight is gone and his wrists free as his boyfriend leans away. Deniz has only just started to turn his head to see what he's about when he returns, meeting his mouth in a hungry kiss. Deniz kisses back eagerly, revelling in the taste of Roman's tongue in his mouth, the feel of Roman's weight on top of him again. Roman's fingers slide down his forearms. He makes a humming noise of approval into Deniz's mouth when he finds his hands still close together on the pillow where he left them. He renews his one-handed grip while his other hand cups Deniz' nape and then slides down warm and slow, following the vertebrae of his spine. The hand lingers for a moment in the hollow at the small of his back before it skims sideways, briefly caressing his hip bone and eventually lightly cupping one of Deniz' smarting buttocks.

Deniz hisses involuntarily and arches his back, not really caring if it makes him look like a slut. The sensation of exposure is even stronger like this, on his knees his with arse in the air, and he tries to alleviate it by pushing himself up on his hands, but Roman's grip immediately tightens, forcing him to stay on his elbows, helplessly sprawled.

"Stay. Wait," he instructs, and this time the hint of amusement in his voice fires Deniz's indignation. He struggles again, putting some actual effort into it this time, and for a few moments everything turns into an actual tussle, Deniz straining against Roman's weight, Roman immediately increasing the pressure. Deniz spits curse words and Roman growls, sinking his teeth into his bare shoulder as he struggles to hold him down.

Another stinging slap to his ass, less measured than the first, stuns Deniz long enough for Roman to regain control. Another one follows, then another; Deniz gasps a protest but they rain down hard and fast, barely leaving enough time in between to register the burn before the next one falls. Heat spreads from each stinging impact, flowing up through his belly and directly to his cock, which twitches and swells even harder against his belly.

"Roman," he moans, but he can barely hear himself over the sound of meaty smacks, and suddenly resistance is the very last thing on his mind. His body ebbs and loosens and he arches into the sharp smacks even as a part of him tries to flinch away and preserve some shred of self-control.

The spanking stops as suddenly as it began, and there Roman's hand is again, cupping and stroking the flesh he's abused just a second before. The abrupt gentleness is almost as much torture as the stinging pain before.

"How does that feel?" he asks softly, a hitch in his breath, and Deniz frowns, writhing a bit under the too-soft caress, pushing his buttocks up for more contact. Roman obliges him for a second, firmly palming his heated cheeks, fingers trailing down the crack, and Deniz moans deep in his throat.

"How does it feel?" Roman insists; his fingers push, squeezing and releasing and Deniz whimpers, shoving his hot face into the pillow. He imagines it must be the same colour as his ass.

"Good," he manages, breath hitching in his throat, "it feels good, okay? Bastard."

"Brat," Roman retorts; there's a grin in his voice but he's not sounding quite so self-possessed anymore, Deniz notices with grim satisfaction. "What do you want?"

"More." He mumbles it into the pillow, and Roman shifts, the length of him pressed close against Deniz's tense back.

"What?"

" _More_." He rolls his hips to accentuate it, and smirks when he feels the telltale hardness through Roman's trousers. A part of him craves the reassuring feel of Roman's bare skin against his, the sleek, addictive smoothness of him, sharp bones and heat and pebbled nipples; but there's another part as well, the part that loves being held down like this, the part that revels in the heightened vulnerability of being naked and painfully aroused while his lover is fully dressed and in total control of his pleasure.

Alright, so maybe Roman's not the only one who's got issues.

He thrusts his hips again, then cries out when Roman delivers another sharp smack to his buttocks. Roman sits back, releasing his wrists. They smart where Roman's tight grip held them. Eyes closed, Deniz keeps them as they were, pinned still by the remembered force of his lover's touch. The bed shifts as Roman moves behind him, and Deniz clenches his teeth, bracing for the spanking to continue. Instead, there is an almost painfully long pause in which nothing happens. He doesn't look back, but he can imagine Roman all too clearly, perched on his haunches as he simply takes Deniz in, laid out across their bed in full supplication, legs spread and reddened buttocks on display. The answering flush that fills his cheeks has little to do with actual humiliation.

The moment drags on until he can barely take it. His cock feels full to bursting, bobbing taut and hot against his trembling stomach, and there's a deep, pulling ache in his balls. "Roman," he starts, and just then the bed behind him dips again as Roman moves. He freezes, every inch of him tense with anticipation.

Instead of a caress or a slap, the sudden touch of fingers slick with lube takes him by surprise; he jerks when they dive between his throbbing cheeks, tracing the sensitive clenched skin there. He moans as his body relaxes instinctively, opening up to the soft but insistent caress. One of Roman's fingers slips inside him while the thumb smoothes up his crack, pushing him open from inside and out.

"Oh god… Roman." He rolls his head on his shoulders, luxuriating in the soft thrust of Roman's fingers – two of them now – inside him. "I need… I need…"

He doesn't know what he needs. More, less. It's agony, this slow, gentle caress, almost more so than the harsh slaps were before. He writhes, whimpering.

"Wait." Just one word, exhaled softly with a deep breath gusting warmly against his back. _Are you fucking kidding me?_ He can't wait. His ass is on fire, craving the simple satisfaction of a hard, fast fuck even as he writhes on the utmost point of pleasure delivered by the slow, knowing thrust of Roman's fingers inside him.

"Please," he gasps.

The fingers withdraw, then plunge back in. Deniz keens in frustration and need, one second before his body is rocked by a sudden, hard rain of deliberate slaps to his ass. Completely open as he was, his body contorts in shock; he feels himself clenching on Roman's fingers, still curling deep inside him. He's both thrusting up and flinching away, hardly knowing whether to try and escape the pain or seek more of it.

"Like this?" he hears Roman panting, almost as breathless as he is, but Deniz doesn't know what to do with the question; yes, no, yes, like this, but more, he needs more; the pain is exquisite, sending his every nerve end aflame but good fucking hell, what he really needs is to _come_. In desperation, he tries to balance on one elbow while reaching for his cock with his other hand, finally breaching the self-imposed capture of his wrists.

Immediately, Roman's fingers withdraw from inside him, seizing his hand instead and forcing it away from his throbbing erection.

"Wait," he repeats, in a harsh voice; his fingers are wet and hot from where they were inside him a second ago, and for a moment Deniz seriously thinks that he hates him.

"Roman, please," he gasps desperately, "come on, baby, please, I can't…"

"Wait," Roman repeats again, but by now he is rough-voiced too, sounding needy and strained. Deniz would gloat if he had the tiniest bit of focus to spare. "Wait."

Waiting is fucking impossible; his heated ass is sending pulsing waves of need through his entire body and his cock is fucking _dripping_ , smearing wetness against his stomach with every motion, and he thinks if he doesn't get touched, fucked, _something_ in the next twenty seconds, he might just implode, just come apart on the inside and melt and never be able to put himself back together again.

There's motion behind him; a rustle, a shift, and then Roman's hands close on his hips and he can feel the thick probing of Roman's cock against his hole. He could have sobbed his relief.

"Wait," Roman says again – Deniz suspects by now he might not even know he's still saying it – and then finally he slides forward and up inside him in one long, slow, delicious thrust. Deniz drops his forehead to the cushion as his body does that _shift_ thing where everything focuses inside on the swell and ebb of pleasure. Roman's hands clutch his hips as if he needed to hold him, as if Deniz wasn't going to stay right where he was, luxuriating in every deep, perfect thrust. The skin of his buttocks chafes underneath the rough scrape of Roman's trousers – he still hasn't taken them off, then, just unzipped and… god. Why he should twitch and almost come at the image of Roman taking him mostly dressed is beyond him, as is most conscious thought by this point.

A low-level keening fills the room and he supposes he's the one making it, but by now he seriously doesn't care. He doesn't care about the other noises either, the soft, wet slap of Roman's balls against the underside of his abused cheeks, the strained gasps above him, the rhythmic creak of the bed. Lars and Stella had better not come home yet, not that he really gives a fuck right now.

Roman's thrusts are getting erratic and okay, he can't keep this up, he just can't, fuck stamina, he's been dying to come since the first burning impact of Roman's palm against his ass, and now he's hot and tender and on the fucking edge inside and out and there is just no way he's going to keep it together for another second.

"Roman. Roman, Roman, Roman, god, I can't…" he babbles desperately, but just then Roman leans forward – Deniz cries out as the motion shifts his cock inside him, making it brush white-hot and sparky against his sweet spot – and finally, _finally_ his hand closes warm and large around Deniz's tortured cock and tightens in one firm and perfect squeeze.

"Okay," Roman pants harshly into his ear, his fingers squeezing and releasing, once, twice, and Deniz can't help a ragged shout when he jitters and spurts, coming hard and wet into Roman's tight fingers, clenching down on the full swell inside him. Roman utters a harsh, aborted gasp; he thrusts hard and fast a few more times, riding Deniz through the twitches of his aftermath until he feels – through the disjointed sensory mess of his pounding pulse and the sharp tang of blood where he's bitten his lip – the throb and shudder of Roman's own release, and then the warm, boneless collapse against his back.

He takes Roman's hand, suddenly limp and strengthless, and pulls it from his spent cock to his chest and higher still. Eyes closed, he presses a kiss to the knuckles, tasting a drop or two of his own come.

"You," he murmurs, struggling to catch his scattered breath, "are messed up."

Against his sweaty nape, Roman laughs, nudging his messed-up hair with his nose. "I love you, too."


End file.
